Bangs and whimpers

Different things attract me to different people. With Dandy, there is the obvious, yet despite my superficiality, there is also the less obvious. The things you only find out after a bit of time, when you've spent a while observing reactions and doing what passes for getting-to-know-you in the kinky sense of the word. I know how his skin smells, that he bites his lip when he's thinking about something filthy and looks away, almost shyly. That he shudders and his back twitches when I run my fingers down the nape of his neck. All these things make me smile, but not as much as the main thing.

He whimpers.

It's not a groan, or a gasp. It's not a breathy noise at all and it's not exactly human either but more definitely animal, specifically puppy. It's a small noise, quiet but high pitched. A whimper. A whine. A noise of want, need and natural, unfeigned subservience to what I am doing. Regular and pulsing in time with his breathing. Tiny little yelps of not-quite pain and not-quite pleasure. A bit of both. Just right, in fact.

He's on all fours by the side of my bed. Cuffed, chained to the bed and gagged with a bit which is making him drool a little, not unappealingly (his choice - I let him lay out four items for use and that, rather than the ball, made an appearance). I let him hear the snap of a latex glove and smear my fingers in lube before probing around his raised arse, pressing in a bit before getting into a rhythm. Which is when the whimpering begins in earnest. I want to fuck him like this, but annoyingly, I don't have the kit. On the other hand, there is something satisfying about doing this by hand, I can feel his responses more readily and, certainly for the first couple of times at least I want to go slow and be a little gentle. There will be time for more later. Right now, I'm exploring.

One of the joys of being on top is the freedom to put your hands wherever you want, to take the bottom wherever you want them to go. It's quite a luxury, actually. Taking my time to stroke, pinch and press against every inch of him until I understand exactly how he works. I'm not there yet, by no means, but I've made some progress. I like the feeling of having him in the palm of my hand, to know that those noises, that expression, that tremor of the leg or clenching of the fists is something owed to me by virtue of what I am doing. Making his body bend to my actions makes him mine, even just for those moments.

I feel quite protective of him, in this state, and wrap my arms around his shoulders, hushing and reassuring him that I'm not going to hurt him. There's a delicious contradiction in this kind of dominance - I care for him and want to look after him, keep him safe and happy. I also want to make him cry, wriggle and thrash around helplessly. Then dry his tears. Then start again. For now, though, I don't go straight in with anything heavy, no pain. I want to build up some trust first and find out where the pleasure buttons are before I bring in anything harder, rather than rushing in with guns blazing. So it's simple stuff. Lots of hands and skin to skin contact, feeling his reactions. Enjoying the way that a rash of goosebumps explode across his back when my fingers lightly trace down his spine. That he arches against the cold metal chopsticks as I press their points gently against his flesh. The tiny pats of a couple of flat palm beats against the base of his balls - he knows, and is concerned, about my love of CBT, but I promised no pain, and I keep my promises.

After a while, he manages to speak a little, to request items that he's brought. I know from personal experience how hard vocalisation can be, so it's a heartfelt need rather than a whim. He mentions nothing specific and when later questioned it was because he wanted me to "get the most out of him" - I can certainly warm to that attitude. I select a butt plug with a puppy tail. He groans as it goes in, there's some resistance but the effect is worth it. After a bit of a fuss and some tail wagging, I get him to kneel and masturbate so I can watch the expression on his face, the movement of his hands. And hear those whimpers. Observational pleasure. I want him to orgasm because he's mentioned that they are difficult, so I want to see how, especially given it's a situation I can empathise with. Eventually, he does, then I put his tongue to work to clean up his semen before he collapses on the rug. I cover him with a blanket and start to tidy up, one eye on his prone form. He's curled up, sleepily satisfied.